What the Queen Saw
by csi cameron
Summary: We never really got to see or hear much of the queen's take on what was going on with Elsa. This is just my version of what could have been going on in her mind. It really focuses on Elsa and not what's going on with Anna... let's face it, we see what's going on with Anna throughout the movie.
1. A Freak Storm

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or Frozen and their likenesses. I'm just borrowing them for the purposes of this story**

A Freak Storm

When Elsa was born, we knew she was destined for something greater than we could imagine. The day of her birth was an eventful one, to say the least. She came into this world on the tail of a rare, summer storm. The weather leading up to her birth had been extremely strange too. Thinking back on it now, we're not entirely sure if she wasn't actually the cause.

We were definitely surprised by the tuft of shockingly platinum blonde hair and vivid crystal blue eyes that bore into your soul. But what was the most surprising was at how cold she was. We were justifiably worried for her, but at her first joyful giggle, and then a second, and a third… and after many slightly nervous reassurances from the doctor that she was perfectly healthy, we accepted the fact that our little Elsa just had a lower body temperature than most. This should've been the first clue she was different. The doctor did seem hesitant at first, but when he could find nothing wrong, , he let the matter drop.

That night we learned how special our little girl was. The weather was still rough and the wind blowing through the courtyard just right would howl eerily and could often be heard through the castle. It was during one particularly wild gust that our room grew incredibly cold. The king and I went to check on Elsa sleeping in her bassinet next to our bed. The sight we beheld surprised us. Elsa naturally was crying, but what troubled us was the layer of frost radiating out from where she was laying to the wall. I quickly picked her up and cradled her close to me. Looking to my husband, we didn't know what to make of it. The late hour and peculiarity of our circumstances caused us to quietly relocate to another room without rousing the servants. Locking the door to prevent questions, we slept with Elsa in our bed with us, soothing her with warm hugs.

The next morning, we woke early and returned to our room before the staff could attempt to wake us thus further complicating matters. Everything had thawed by the time we returned. Part of us wondered if it was the result of our sleep-deprived minds. We soon learned it was not.

The following months were uneventful. But as autumn approached, along with the storms, it became apparent that what normally scared children had a larger effect on Elsa, as her fear manifested itself in not only tears, but also ice and snow. She was usually better with a hug and assuring words.


	2. Sisterhood

Sisterhood

As Elsa grew older, we began to notice it wasn't just fear that triggered these bursts of cold. When she worried over problems she would be working on, be it a block structure or getting a drawing just right, things would frost over a bit. But once she figured it out, everything would warm over.

That's when we worried how she'd respond to the news that after three years of our undivided attention, she was going to become a big sister. She surprised us once again. With a glint in her eye and a lopsided smile, she contemplated what we told her. Then looking us squarely in the eye, she said, "Mama, Papa, I'll be the world's bestest sister ever. Look! I can even help keep her happy while you work." Then, she showed us she could make little bursts of snow flurries without any negative triggers. The king and I shared a nervous glance, but the happiness in Elsa's eyes erased all trace of worry for us. Elsa giggled as she continued making little bursts of snow, oblivious of our initial concern.

When Anna was born, we were able to see another special trait of Elsa's—her 100% devotion to her sister's happiness. Anna wasn't as easy an infant as Elsa was. Keeping Anna entertained was a 24-hour job. As parents of two little girls and rulers of a shipping kingdom, it was admittedly wearisome. But in stepped our little, future queen-in-training. She'd be aware of Anna's needs sometimes before we were and would readily take care of them. My husband would beam at this, saying it was a good trait of a ruler to anticipate the needs of the people. I'd merely shake my head. Of course he'd see the politics of such actions first over the sentimental aspects.

A few more years passed and Elsa's powers were getting noticeably stronger…as was her temperament. When she didn't like something, stomping her foot produced more than just a bad attitude. For Elsa, it meant a sheen of ice would form on the floor. We weren't too concerned, but still, her father tried working with her to be a calmer child and not let her emotions dictate her reactions. When she got older, she wouldn't get that luxury, especially as queen. She seemed to understand the importance of staying in control.

Still, she and her sister would get into some mischief, but Elsa would never lose her temper even if Anna did get them in trouble. It seemed Elsa took secret joy in getting into trouble for her sister. That was Elsa for you—she'd defend Anna to the bitter end, even when it was obvious Elsa couldn't have possibly been involved. That's what I loved about my eldest daughter. Being an only child, I never got to experience such devotion. This may be normal for siblings or Elsa was a rare breed. I like to think this was one more thing that made Elsa as sweet and loving as she was.


	3. A Turn for the Worse

A Turn for the Worse

We thought our life couldn't be better. Unfortunately, we disregarded the fact that it could always get worse. And as the saying goes, 'When it rains, it pours.' Elsa was eight and Anna was five. We always knew they would sneak into the ballroom at night to play in the snow. I didn't see the harm in it, but my husband was worried, especially with Elsa's powers getting stronger.

It was on one of these nights we were woken by the tearful cry of our daughter and for once it wasn't Anna. We couldn't get into the ballroom at first, and it took all our might to break in the doors. What we saw terrified us. The floor was covered with snow piles and ice. The ice extended from the floor up the walls to the ceiling. This wasn't Elsa's usual ice coating. This was a thick, rough ice. My husband and I rush to our girls who are on the floor, Anna cradled in Elsa's lap. Their father yells something, but I'm too focused on Anna to comprehend. I pick her up and exclaim, "She's ice cold!" We rush to the library, my husband knowing what to do. It's all a blur, as I ride with Anna in my arms and my husband with Elsa. I have no idea where we are going, but trust my husband implicitly.


	4. Growing Pains

Growing Pains

Nothing is more frightening and painful than seeing one's offspring hurt. In the following ten years, I would soon learn emotional pain is harder to watch than physical and about a hundred times harder to heal from.

After the ballroom incident, the girls were separated. I'm not sure whose idea it was, but we were soon aware it was a mistake—one that snowballed out of our control, pardon the expression.

If I thought the sad expression on Anna's face at the separation and Elsa's refusal to play with her was painful, nothing prepared me for Elsa's reaction to everything. At first, I thought once the initial shock and fear over what her powers could do wore off, Elsa would come out of her room and rejoin us. Sadly, that would not be the case.

Elsa's isolation only increased her fears—but not of the wind or the boogeyman of her childhood, but of her powers and herself. My once loving daughter who would stop at nothing to ensure her sister's happiness was pushing that same sister away at an exponential rate. It started simple enough with a straight forward, "Go away, Anna" then graduated to complete cold shoulder silence. With the increase of her fear of hurting anyone, a decrease in her control was the only natural response.

The solution was simple enough. My husband got Elsa gloves. He started working on meditation techniques. "Conceal it, don't feel it, don't let it show." Elsa seemed to take to it well, much like the old Elsa who was a quick study. We were all confident it was working. So much so, that in the evenings, after Anna had gone to bed, Elsa would join us in the study to work on her lessons. I would sit by the fire, working on my needlepoint, while my husband would sit at his desk reading trade agreements, agricultural reports, or going over royal lessons with Elsa. It was looking like things were returning to normal, all things considered.

On one of these particular occasions, Elsa was sitting at my feet, going over the history of our ancestors when I noticed she had moved to lay splayed out in front of the roaring fire, her work abandoned. The light from the flickering flames lit up her glistening eyes. "Elsa, dear, what are you doing?" I asked gently. I wasn't sure she had heard me at first.

I thought I caught a slight sniffle from her. "I…" she hesitated. Elsa never hesitated. "I though maybe I could melt the ice out of me." She wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes in shame, a tear escaping. I was immediately on my knees beside her. My husband rose from his chair, but I shook my head at him, staying him for a moment.

"Why would you say that?" She remains in her prone position and points her arm to where she was working. At first, I don't see it. Then, I see something glistening on the carpet. Upon closer inspection, I see it is her quill encased in ice.

I put my arm behind her back and push her up into my arms. "Elsa, honey…" I don't even know where to begin. I just tighten my embrace, rubbing circles on her back. She stiffens at first, then she relaxes and puts her arms around me and I feel her shuddering with tears.

What she says next is muffled by my chest, but one word is clear—"failure".

"No, honey," I raise her chin to look at me. "You're not a failure." This only elicits a sob. "What makes you think that?" At this point, her father has come over and kneels nearby, but not too close to make her uncomfortable.

She sniffles some more, "I was reading about all the past rulers and all the great things they did…what can I ever do that'll be great to help Arendelle?"

I look to my husband for help.

"Sweetheart," he begins. "Greatness doesn't come from big deeds. Greatness comes from within."

That was apparently not what she wanted to hear as she just turns her face back into my chest. A mumbled, "All I have is ice inside me," was heard before her tears begin anew.

I give my husband an exasperated look, as if to say, "Good going."

"What your father is trying to say is that you have a great amount of love in you. Your greatness comes from that, sweetie. What you'll accomplish will be greater than our ancestors. You don't need an act of physical strength to prove it."

It takes a while longer before she's calmed down. She pushes away from me and goes back to her work. I think things are going to be okay. But she only slams her book shut and quietly asks to be excused. Her father silently nods his head. And then to put the nail in the coffin, he says the one phrase I've grown to hate, "Remember, conceal it…"

Elsa groans, but finishes it, "…don't feel it, don't let it show."

"That's my good girl." –the second phrase I've learned to hate.

She curtsies, but before leaving, she throws her frozen quill into the fire. The hissing it makes louder than the large door she shuts, but not louder than the door to her heart.


	5. The Elusive Princess

The Elusive Princess

Ever since that night, we rarely see Elsa out of her room. She reluctantly comes to the study and only to learn about how council meetings work and how to negotiate trade agreements. And these are few and far between. She reasons she has plenty of time to learn this and should focus on getting her powers under control or all the royalty lessons will be for naught. We really can't or don't want to argue with her.

One day, we hadn't heard much from her, not even a meal request. Gerda approached me in the garden to tell me she had a rather abrupt and anxious sounding encounter with Elsa, albeit through the door. She expressed concern because while Elsa could be temperamental with her father or my, she never took it out on the staff. Whether it was from fear of being discovered or a remnant of the old Elsa shining through, I could never be sure. I looked up to her window that overlooked the garden and see it beginning to frost over.

I gather my husband and we pay a visit to our daughter. We gently knock on her door and she timidly allows us entry. It is a tenuous dance we've performed for four years now. We find her pacing in the corner, wringing her gloved hands fretfully, ice radiating up the walls like when she was a baby, frightened by a storm.

"Elsa…" she interrupts us before we can say anymore.

"I'm scared! It's getting stronger!"

This is the first time I've heard her truly express fear over her powers.

"Getting upset only makes it worse. Calm down." I hear my husband tell her in an effort to help. I can only stand by, helpless as I watch her frantically examine her hands. This is not a feeling I like to associate with my children. My thoughts are interrupted as Elsa yells, panicked, "No! Don't touch me!" She jerks away from her father as he reaches out to her. I raise my hands in shock, trying to contain my tears. I put a comforting hand on my husband's shoulder.

"Please…I don't want to hurt you," she pleads.

There is nothing we can do to help her and that is like a kick to the gut. My little girl is gone. Replaced by this shell of an imposter. I don't know how to comfort her anymore and it's not like she'd allow us to get close to her to try.

While my husband sits in his study late at night, I quietly cry myself to sleep. I imagine Elsa doing the same.


	6. A Fateful Voyage

A Fateful Voyage

Today we leave for Denmark. It'll be the first time we've left Arendelle in ten years. I am reluctant to go, but my husband tells me it is necessary. We need to fortify trade relations with our mother country. They are getting nervous about our mysteriousness. Our isolation has not just come with a price from within our gates, but also without. He assures me the girls will be fine and once we reestablish strong trade relations with Denmark, we won't have to leave for years to come.

Anna comes to give us a goodbye hug and it brings a smile to both our faces. She is a ray of sunshine in our shut off world—even if she does seem to ruin many suits of armor and talk to paintings. I'm sure she'll grow out of her clumsy, awkward phase.

Elsa has even come out of her room to bid us a farewell of sorts. She curtsies to us and I realize I haven't hugged her since she was nine. It's a disconcerted feeling and it pains me that she is so frightened of herself. This is not what I envisioned for my daughter eighteen years ago when we brought her into this world. Of course she doesn't want us to leave and a part of me agrees with her. But her father reassures her she'll be fine. And maybe it's meant as one final reassurance for me as well. I try to give her a comforting smile, but I have a feeling it comes across more as pitying.

The whole carriage ride to the docks, my husband is giving me assurances on how Elsa's control has improved vastly. There are no more emotional outbursts. She is the epitome of grace and poise. I want to argue there's no emotion at all, except that display of frightful timidity before we left. And how aloofness should not be confused with poise, but thought it wise to keep silent.

As the winds howl through the sails, I'm reminded of Elsa's day of birth and of her first night in our room, or rather our first night as a royal family sleeping in a guest suite. This thought brings me little comfort through the storm. And as the waves toss our sailing vessel to and fro, I regret keeping silent on the carriage ride. I regret keeping silent on the dock. Most of all, I regret keeping silent with my husband's "Conceal, don't feel" policy and with those ridiculous trolls.


	7. Introspection

**Author's Note: So it's taking me a little longer to write the last few chapters. Some reviews were asking for/mentioning, having the queen looking on from the afterlife. Coincidentally, that was sort of the plan all along. But I wasn't quite sure how to do it without being cheesy or rehashing scenes from the movie. So hopefully, I haven't turned it into both. LOL So instead of just an epilogue, I'm going to have to break down some of those moments into a couple of chapters because there are things you can't just gloss over. Crossing my fingers it turns out well. ;)**

Chapter 7 – Introspection

Watching your child go from joyful, protective and strong to sad, anxious and fearful is a hard thing to go through. Harder than childbirth, harder than dealing with the death of a loved one, harder than your own imminent death. One would think all those other things would be harder, that is until they've gone through it themselves. One can't prepare for the unpredictability of their child's development. You can only guide and comfort so much, but if your child pushes you away believing they're protecting those they love, what can you do? When your own actions are in the guise of protection also backfire and hurt the ones you love, the ones you think you are protecting, how do you fix that? The damages are irreparable. At least that's what I thought.

I can only watch my girls from afar now. There's nothing I can do to comfort and guide them. It's impossible when you are dead. I thought it was hard when I had to keep secrets from Anna or when Elsa wouldn't allow us near her anymore, but this was infinitesimally worse. They're both so lonely. Both not realizing they are feeling the same thing, yet thinking the one doesn't need the other or that what they're doing is best for the other.

Elsa, poor sweet Elsa. Where has my little girl gone? Who will take care of you now that your father and I aren't there? We should have let more people in. Should have at least let Gerda and Kai know. Knowing you, you'll keep to yourself and not make any attempt to break free. You can do that now, can't you see? We aren't there to stop you. The only thing stopping you is your fear. I know your father impressed upon you so many rules to keep Anna safe, but you can do it, if you just try and let yourself feel again. Let your love for Anna combat the fear. If only I had told her all this when we could still be together.

My dear little Anna, needing her big sister and having to deal with our deaths on her own. And she still musters the strength to comfort Elsa. If only she knew, her sister is always there, just inches away, always listening, taking in every word, every tear.


	8. Thirteen Years

Chapter 8 – Thirteen Years

Thirteen years. Thirteen long years of self-induced isolation. Ten of them, we were uncomfortably witnesses to. The last three were the worse. After our deaths, our daughters' relationship had only gotten worse. Anna tried to coax Elsa out of her room, but when she didn't come out or even speak during this time, she was understandably angry. First came the grief and hurt, then the anger. That I couldn't bear to watch. I have never seen Anna angry, especially with Elsa. If only Anna knew why Elsa couldn't come out. If only we could have told her Elsa's secret. If only _Elsa_ could have told her finally. But none of us really understood what the trolls meant when they removed the memories of magic from Anna. Was it meant to be permanent? Who thought it was possible to grow to loathe a creature even after you were dead?

Luckily, Anna is irrepressible. After a few days, she was back to her old self and didn't let Elsa's reticence keep her from returning to Elsa's door. Still, Elsa never let Anna in.

Elsa, for her part, had it worse. As much as she wished she could just fade into the background, never to be seen again, as heir to the throne, she had to start taking responsibility for the kingdom. In the beginning, it was easier. She wasn't yet of age, so the advisors did most of the governing in her stead as she learned what it meant to rule Arendelle. She did her best to limit the time she had outside of her room when she had to speak with them. The rest of the time, she was holed up in her room, studying old treaties and laws, much like she did when she was younger. She took to it quite naturally. It was just the times when she had to venture out that made her the most nervous. She was always worried she'd bump into Anna or one of the meetings with the advisors would wear down her defenses and she'd inadvertently freeze something. It hurt to see her at night, when everything had wound down and she'd release all the pent up stress and freeze her room once again. Her restrained sobs are like nails on a chalkboard to me.


	9. Author's Note

I hate author's notes as an update. They always give false hope, but I wanted to let you all know what's going on with this story.

Firstly, thank you all for following and putting this story in your favorites and for your reviews. You guys are awesome! And second, I am continuing this and am currently working on this and a previous story but have a bad case of writer's block on both. Or more like I feel guilty not finishing the other one yet. At the moment, I have to put this on pause for a bit while I think of a way to finish it without basically rehashing what we've all seen on the big screen.

Also, I've gotten some reviews wanting to see the King's thoughts. As cool as that idea is, I won't be putting it in here because this story is basically what's going on in the Queen's mind, hence the title. We saw barely interaction with her and so I want to highlight that. But I kind of get into the King's thoughts in my other story, For the First Time in Forever, if you wanted to read something like that. But it's way later in the story.

Once again, thanks for reading, and I'll be updating this as soon as I get it put together better.


	10. Coronation Day

Chapter 9 – Coronation Day

Coronation Day—Elsa's 21st birthday, she has come of age. I expected this day to be especially hard on Elsa. It didn't disappoint and it came in spades.

This is a day her mother is supposed to be there for her. To help her pick out her gown, do her hair, all the things mothers do when their daughters come of age. Instead, Elsa is alone in her room; dressing herself in an outfit so stifling I can feel it from here. She doesn't even allow Gerda in to assist her, much like the past thirteen years, but you would think, this time she'd let someone help her just this once. But I understand. She's under so much pressure for today, one false move, one wrong word could set her off and all her work to maintain control would be for naught. She tries to keep herself strong and put together for this one day. I don't think she even realizes it's her birthday—she is so consumed with the coronation and the gates being opened for the first time in years. All those people coming and she being the center of attention is enough to make her run and hide, I can tell. If only I could be there for this day, to give her a comforting smile, a warm hug, anything to tell her she'll be alright and is ready to rule.

This is the first time in forever that I feel like everything is going to be all right. Elsa survived the coronation with only a little bit of her powers revealing themselves. Luckily, no one seemed to notice, not even Anna. Though, she's seems more interested in someone in the audience. I don't like the way that one man is looking at her and she back at him. Call me petty, but I don't trust a man with such unkempt sideburns.

I'm amazed and so proud of Elsa at this moment. Even though she seems a bit stiff, she isn't letting the crowds and constant introductions get to her. She even initiated conversation with Anna. I think they're both finally are going to be okay. That was before Elsa let her fear set in again. Of course the rapport they have now will only last for this one day. Elsa will hole herself up either in her room or council chambers. The queen's duties will keep her so occupied she won't have time for Anna. And if she's anything like her father, which she is, Elsa will figure out how to rule from behind closed doors.


	11. Argument - 1

**Author's Note: Sorry for such a long hiatus. I was a bit stuck and I've been trying to figure out how to do this without basically rehashing the story scene for scene (though the next few chapters might be a little of that...depends) That was never my intention so unfortunately, if you were looking for that, you won't find it. But hopefully, what I do give you will be satisfactory. :) This is probably a really short chapter too, but I'm hoping to have another one up soon.**

Chapter 10 – Argument - 1

I am a silent witness to their first argument in thirteen years. Actually, it's their first argument ever. Even though I shouldn't feel pain, it hurts me to the core seeing how it affects them. I can see the panic and hurt in Elsa's face as she tells her sister to leave. Much like the first time she told Anna to go away all those years ago. If only I could tell Anna like I told her then, she's not saying it to hurt her. And as much as it doesn't seem like it, it hurts Elsa so much to say it. Anna doesn't understand, but Elsa is giving Anna her freedom. I can see it her eyes, just like when she understood that we would never be able to hug her again. She tries to distance herself from everyone she loves to protect them. The problem is, this does nothing to soothe the ache in anyone's heart, least of all Elsa's. Then all hell breaks loose.

If I thought the emotional outpouring of ice in Elsa's room after our deaths was something to behold, the display she had just shown was in another realm.

All the pent up anxiety, fear, and possibly hate toward her own situation has kept my girl so tightly wound she was bound to explode. If only Anna had gone with her to speak in private. No. If only we were able to help Elsa with her fear and control.

As my husband used to say, when times were more joyous, "Well, the cat's out of the bag now." Of course he would never joke about something like this anymore.

What happens next cuts me to the core. Elsa ran. She ran like I've never seen her, a look of abject terror on her face. The look frightens me because it's reminiscent of a look of a trapped animal. I can tell Elsa no longer is aware of anything other than her fear of her powers. She doesn't even register that Anna isn't calling for her out of Anna's own terror or anger, unlike the Duke of Weselton, but because she's trying to help her.


	12. Our Daughter, the Architect

**Author's Note: This is a very short chapter. It's been sitting in my folder for a while as I figured out if I needed to make it longer or not. I apologize for such a long wait. Life has been pretty crazy the last couple of weeks. It should settle down in a few weeks or so where I can really sit down and work on this and my other story. Ironically, I have little snippets of a sequel in the works to one, but I can't really do anything with that until I finish the first one. Thank you again for your patience. :)  
**

Chapter 11 – Our Daughter, the Architect

I was definitely worried when Elsa ran across that fjord. I had no idea she had that much power flowing through her. I guess this is what the troll meant by "fear will be your enemy." Keeping all that magic pent up for years because of fear never allowed for her to learn to embrace and control it. Instead it all came rushing out like an uncontrollable avalanche. I'm just realizing this now and am saddened that there is no way for me to tell Elsa; to get her to realize that she doesn't need to conceal it and not feel it. That's another thing; Elsa feels the need to not have any emotion. Her father never said that. He said not feel _it_. He didn't want her to focus on the power coursing through her and somehow she changed it to cutting off all emotion. Is this what happened all those times we just left her in her room after she shut us out? How could we have just abandoned her like that?

I'm unable to dwell on that long as suddenly Elsa is really giving her powers a workout. Elsa continues to amaze me. The staircase she created is exquisite! As magnificent as that is, I'm stricken speechless by the palace that just erupts from under her as she builds it on the fly. It's a little bittersweet considering what brought her to this, but the ice palace she made is incredible! This was a more refined control over her power over the ice than her display in the ballroom. I am in awe of what Elsa can do when she freed herself.


End file.
